Our American Girl Slumber Party

This is Z, early Saturday afternoon on the El platform by our house. We were heading into the city for a mother-daughter overnight at the Embassy Suites on State Street. Which, by the way, I last stayed at in the mid 1980s when my parents took me and my sister to Chicago to visit their old college haunts.

I'd been given a free one night stay complete with their exclusive American Girl Place package via my association with Kristen Chase (aka the Mominatrix). I checked in at the front desk, and a manager then stepped out from around the corner with a clipboard and helped Z "check in" her doll. She was tickled pink. We dropped off our suitcase in our 2-room suite on the eighth floor and walked to the retail-as-entertainment emporium that is the American Girl Place. Holy mother of consumerism, this place is like Disneyland without the rides. So many lovely things upon which to spend money. And all so alluringly displayed.

I'd had a chat with Z beforehand about how many nice things we'd see and how much she might want to buy the things displayed there. I also emphasized that we'd buy her yard sale American Girl doll a new outfit, get her ears pierced (I had a coupon for a complimentary ear piercing from the hotel) and get her ratty hand-me-down hair fixed up. I needed her to understand we wouldn't be buying extra outfits, furniture, accessories, food or anything else.

We headed straight upstairs and reserved a spot for "Hannah" at the doll hair salon. Then we spent 40 minutes wandering through the 2-level store, checking out the period dolls in their museum-like historical dioramas and selecting just the right outfit for Hannah to wear.

When we returned to the salon, Hannah was strapped into a tiny salon chair and we learned the proper technique for styling her hair (wet it well and use a wire brush).

$15 later, Hannah was pierced and styled and we changed her into her new pink dress (with matching shoes and a necklace). We didn't buy cupcakes, an American Girl magazine with Z's picture on the cover, miniature American Girl dolls, any one of the hundreds of American Girl books or hobby-accessories. (If you're into dancing, ice skating, horseback riding or gardening, your doll can be too!) But we did linger in the book department and read the first chapter of "Meet Felicity," a book about a girl who lives in Philadelphia in the 1800s.

Two lovelies

To my surprise and immense relief, Z didn't whine or ask for anything beyond her allotted goodies. She even remarked a few times how lucky she was and how beautiful her doll looked. She is, however, very much looking forward to her birthday and plans to ask for a second American Girl doll. Julie, specifically.

We left the store and headed back to the hotel, where Z was overjoyed to find the American Girl package "turn-down service" in full effect. A custom fold-out American Girl doll bed was set up (complete with a wrapped chocolate on the pillow) on her fold-out couch and the TV was tuned to the Disney Channel. Minutes later a staff member stopped by with two gift bags full of junk food and the manager called to let us know that--due to their On-Demand service being down--we wouldn't be able to order the movie included in the package. Instead, he offered us a $20 AMC gift card!

We headed downstairs to the lobby and joined the crowd in line for the Manager's Reception, and I got myself a glass of wine and a handful of snack mix. Then, after a half an hour of TV and Cheetos (two rare treats for Z), we walked back outside for dinner. We had "the best dinner ever" at Nordstrom Cafe and we walked across the mall to the Crocs store, where I replaced Z's worn-out Crocs with a ballet slip-on style that were on sale for $19. We also picked up a Belle Jibbitz for A.

Since Z was still gung-ho to shop, we headed into Ann Taylor Loft. There she declared me to look absolutely beautiful in everything I tried on. The $10 lilac T-shirt was a go. The saggy-ass boyfriend-style cropped white jeans. Um, no.

Our Enchanted-style shopping spree complete, we headed back to the hotel for baths and bed. And little tech-savvy chica that she is, Z figured out how to take my picture while I was in the tub and email it to Josh. Fortunately his is one of the only email addresses loaded into my Blackberry.

It's my birthday

There's nothing like a birthday to snap a girl out of her funk and remind her how loved and lucky she really is. Thank you everyone for the emails, the Facebook wall posts, the balloons, cookies and cocktails.

And mark my words, I won't turn 35 without becoming a Bat Mitzvah, a Creative Director and the parent of a kindergarten graduate.

See what I was saying when I turned 33, 32, and 31 (or maybe skip that last one--it was a sad birthday).

Flashback to finger knitting

Although I didn't learn to knit knit until I was in my 20s, I finger knitted up a storm in elementary school. And somehow I never forgot how. This week, I taught Z. Maybe I'll end up using her knitted strands to mark our luggage. That's what my mom did.

Family pictures: done

I've always wanted some really nice pictures of my kids and a portrait of my whole family, and now I have them. Photographer Paul Goyette met us in Oak Park's Austin Gardens early Saturday morning (before the downpour) and we fought against the awkwardness of posing to get some really great shots. My only regret is that we didn't get any good ones of just Josh and me (we were too self-conscious). But my kids--dang they're photogenic. For $200 I got 2 hours of Paul's time and a CD with all 71 high-res images. You can see all of the images from our shoot here.

We made t-shirts at Frankie's

Thanks to an invitation from one of my oldest and best blog friends, Sara, the kids and I joined a few of my other favorite bloggers at the Lincoln Park tween boutique Frankie's on the Park. We headed upstairs to the Graffiti Bar, where you can page through binders of graphic transfers and have them applied to a tee shirt or hat.

We'd brought our own tees, $2 tank tops from Old Navy for the girls and an old ringer tee of Josh's, and the girls picked their own designs.

Notice anything different about Z's ears?

A chose a cupcake and I added the number 3 to her back since she's almost 3 years old. Her collection of cupcake tee shirts is now at three.

Check out the big-eyed shy face she's giving the employees

Z picked a retro-ish dog and the number 5 after lingering over a glittery penguin and some cheese-ball dolphins.

After she'd warmed up a bit, A checked out her new tee in the mirror and hung out with Carrie's daughter, whom she'd met at the farmers market a couple of weeks ago.

We couldn't find the perfect design for Josh, so the girls decided to have "DADDY" emblazoned in 70s-style letters on the front.

Strawberries and stuff

Josh and the kids picked strawberries Friday morning and I've been doing by best to put all 7 lbs to good use before they get overripe. So today I made a batch of bran-strawberry mini muffins, 3 jars of strawberry freezer jam (I followed the recipe on the pectin box), strawberry shortcake and strawberry sorbet. And I still have a lot of strawberries to go through. I'm thinking there might be smoothies for breakfast tomorrow.

And the strawberry recipe bonanza wasn't the only way I was productive today. I hired a babysitter to occupy the kids for a couple of hours this afternoon while Josh and I decluttered and organized the crawl space. It was a good day to be an Oak Park Freecycler.

Speaking of which, I just finished reading Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things and I'm now convinced the Freecycle list is probably dangerously tempting to hoarders. As addictive to them, perhaps, as it is to those of us who love to purge.

The red sea

Let it be said that while the Blackhawks players are a tasty bunch, Blackhawks fans as a whole look kind of trashy. At least those pumped enough to fill downtown Chicago streets for the ticker-tape parade and rally today. I saw girls who'd managed to slut-up their red t-shirts with some creative cutting and twisting. Those tees were paired with big hair and super-short jean cut-offs, rolled up.

They were a sight to behold. And the guys? Suffice it to say I saw a lot of big guts, mullets and long goatees. The Loop smelled like day two of Lollapalooza: sweat, sunscreen, cigarettes and port-a-johns.

But the energy was palpable and that was kind of cool.

The photo is a view of the parade from my office window taken on my Blackberry. I'm looking south to Washington. Click on it for a closer look.

Outdoor cat

His wishes couldn't have been clearer. So finally we collared him, tagged him, attached a bell to him, and let Oscar outside. Fortunately he stays within 1 or 2 houses of our own and comes home on his own.

I know we're taking a risk letting him out, but he seems so happy chasing moths, eating grass and resting under the shrubs, watching the world go by.

Wordless Wednesday: Chicago Spring

photo credit goes to my 5 year old

The jerk in the silver minivan

Driver #1 shook my faith in my beloved community. You see, I live in Oak Park, a family-friendly, bike-positive inner suburb of Chicago. My 5 year old recently learned to ride a two-wheeler, and with my 2 year old in the bike seat of my bike, the 3 of us can get pretty much anywhere in the village on our bikes. Because of my daughter Z's age, we ride on the sidewalks, moving to the grass when we need to pass pedestrians and slowing at all street intersections to make sure it's safe to cross.

It isn't the fastest way to get around town, but it's quiet and peaceful and I don't have to listen to my youngest holler for snacks or complain that her car seat straps are "hurting" her. We were biking west along Jackson Avenue on our way home from a park when we paused to cross a side street. A red car was slowly inching into the intersection, trying to find a safe moment to cross Jackson Avenue, which was busy with cars. A man in a silver minivan behind her was laying on his horn, nearly rear-ending her in his frustration with her slow pace across the street. He didn't stop at his stop sign and didn't bother to look for pedestrians. Much less small children on bicycles who happened to also have the right of way.

"Hey," I called out, "This little girl is trying to cross the street."

"I'm trying to get across Jackson, lady," he replied through his open window.

"Well you need to stop and look! There are kids around." My voice was probably a little whiny, but I was too upset at his carelessness and what it could mean for my child and others in the neighborhood to sound scolding.

"Hey, I've got two kids of my own. Don't you tell me how to drive." His voice turned nasty, his eyes were slits and the veins in his neck were bulging.

"I'm just asking you to be more careful."

He stopped his car in the middle of Jackson Avenue. I thought his was going to jump out and attack me, but his just yelled, over and over, "Don't you tell me how to drive. Don't you DARE talk to me about my driving!"

"Well you don't have to be such a jerk," I replied and biked away, anxious to avoid any further confrontation. If I'd been faster on my feet, I'd have asked him how if he'd like drivers looking out for his 2 children.

"Mommy," my 5 year old piped up, "Are you going to call the police on that man?"

"No, honey, I'm not."

"Mommy, is he going to call the police on you?"

Ha! I'd love hear that story. Officer, I was running through a stop sign, tailing a slow car and laying on the horn in a quiet neighborhood when a parent dared speak to me because I didn't register that her little snot with the right-of-way was waiting to cross the street.

The next day we were back on our bikes. Failing to take the weather forecast seriously, we rode to the farmers market and arrived just as the skies opened up. We took refuge in the high school parking garage, but 15 minutes went by with no sign of the rain lightening up. Then one of the children's librarians (let's call her driver #2) walked by. She's a friend of a friend and an acquaintance of my husband's and she miraculously recognized us and our plight and volunteered to come back and fetch us after she'd ferried her own family to the library. She even had two car seats installed in her minivan. Which, by the way, definitely wasn't silver.

Originally posted to the Chicago Moms Blog

Z's first book

Soon to be a hillbilly (maybe)

We just got word from our pediatric dentist that A's little gray tooth has got to go. She damaged both of her front teeth months ago when she took a flying leap off the couch and slammed her chompers into a trunk, but the one on her right side is more damaged than the other.

The dentist is recommending that at a minimum we pull the gray tooth, but he also suggested we pull both of her two front teeth and fill the space with a partial until her adult teeth start growing in. It would definitely look better, but it would also cost quite a bit more. I think right now we're leaning toward the wee little hillbilly look.

Or perhaps doing nothing at all, which plenty of people do. There is a risk of abscess (in which case she'd be in pain, there'd be some risk of infection and we'd have to pull the tooth). And there's also a minor risk of her adult tooth being pitted if we don't pull. Decisions, decisions.

Kind of glad that I scheduled our first ever family portraits (with fellow Oak Parker and preschool parent Paul Goyette) for this coming weekend. We'll be able to capture A's adorable, impish grin before it's too late.

Would you let your 5 year old bike around the block alone?

My daughter is 5 years old and I let her ride around the block by herself. My heart raced the first time she sped out of sight on 2-wheels. How long should it take before she reappeared at the other end of the block? I'm not sure exactly how long it took her--probably no more than 2 or 3 minutes--but they were among the longest 3 minutes of my life.

Now there are parents that probably think I'm crazy. Moms and dads who would never dream of letting their 5 year old out of sight. Heck, there are parents out there who don't let their 10 year olds go the playground unsupervised and hire babysitters for their 13 year olds. But I always knew I wouldn't be the overprotective sort. I admire Lenore Skenazy, the mother who famously let her 9 year old ride the NYC subway alone and founded the Free-Range Kids movement to promote giving kids developmentally appropriate freedoms. I was a free-range kid myself; my mom gave me a house key and let me navigate the Berlin public transit system as a 10 year old.

But it's one thing to talk up freedom and another to let your 5 year old round the corner alone for the first time. After all, just last year an attempted child abduction took place in our neighborhood. Attempted because the 7 year old boy who was approached knew better than to take a ride in a stranger's car.

So I decided to arm my smart, responsible daughter with a little extra wisdom. I borrowed Stranger Safety

from our local library and watched it with her. It's a little low-budget, but its a charming DVD from John Walsh's organization that divides adults into Don't Knows, Kinda Knows and Safe Side Adults. Aside from the title, the video avoids using the word "stranger" to describe anyone. After all, plenty of kids are taken advantage of by coaches, neighbors and other familiar faces. I also appreciated that the video wasn't scary. I don't want my daughter to be fearful--I just want her to know the some basic ground rules about who to talk to when I'm not around, how to maintain a safe zone around herself, and what to do if someone does try to hurt her (hint, it's yell "Stop! You're not my Mom/Dad!"). We had a good discussion afterwards and my daughter asked me to quiz her. "You name people and I'll say if they're Safe Side, Kinda Knows or Don't Knows!" She didn't miss an answer. I rewarded her with a few more trips around the block, and I relaxed. Mostly.

Originally published to the Chicago Moms Blog.

Jelly bracelets for the new generation

Here's a milestone they don't leave space for in the baby book: First Fad.

We've avoided buying Z any "hot toys" (Tickle-Me Elmo and Zhu-Zhu pets, I'm looking at you), but I've indulged her desire for the rubber jewelry fad that's swept through grade school classrooms across the nation and is now trickling down to the preschool set. For those unfamiliar with this latest fad, these flexible plastic bracelets revert to shapes when removed. They come in "farm," "zoo," "cars," "military" and other themes. And, because you can get a dozen for under $3, they're perfect for sharing and trading with your friends.

We've purchased a second set to use as rewards for good behavior, but chances are this fad will fade before we break them out.

Huggies Jeans: go blue for poo

Although I think they're uglier than sin, Huggies new Jeans Diapers are kind of genius. I can imagine the brainstorm over at Kimberly-Clark:

"Market research shows that moms dress their babies in just a diaper and a sometimes a t-shirt when it's hot."

"So, tell me what's cool these days."

"Jeans are always cool."

"Yeah, but jeans are hot when it's hot."

"Baby jeans are so cute."

Cue lightbulb.

As for the commercial, I think it's tasteless and awesome in equal measure. It's memorable and there's no doubt about what the product is, how it is to be worn or who makes it.

But you know what's way cuter than diaper-clad toddlers? Potty-trained kids hanging out in their underpants. Or maybe that's just me.

Rain on my parade

I don't have any pictures from today's River Forest Memorial Day parade (one of my favorite events of the year) because I was afraid to expose my camera to the torrential downpour. My in-laws are in town and our car only seats 5, so I took my bike to the parade (with A in the bike seat). Just as we arrived it started raining and by the time the first fire trucks came blaring down Ashland, thunder was booming, lightning flashing and we were soaked to the bone by sheets and sheets of pouring rain. Josh's parents wanted to stay and see the whole parade, but not even the free candy could keep my wet, chilled children amused for another minute. We bundled them up in the car and I raced Josh home on my bike. At that point I just had to embrace the soaked sensation and focus on trying to see--which was tough, as anyone who's ever showered with her contacts in and her eyes open can imagine.

But while our Memorial Day was kind of a bust, the rest of this weekend's been great. I had Friday off, which meant I got to do the pick up and drop off on Z's last day of school and take A to get a haircut.

Saturday morning we biked to the farmers market and cooled off at the just-switched-on splashpad at our local park. Josh's parents babysat on Saturday so that we could have dinner at the Chew Chew in Riverside. On Sunday Josh, his folks and Z went to a Cubs game. A wouldn't nap, but we were able to join the rest of Oak Park at Rehm pool for our first swim of the season. We then drove way north to meet the rest of the family at Sun Wah BBQ for dinner. I'm not a typically a huge fan of Chinese food, but the Peking duck, soft-shell crab and the shrimp dumpling soup with noodles were all amazing.

3 years of Montessori

In September 2007, we brought Z to her Montessori school for the first time. At 2 years and 9 months, she was the youngest child in the school. (Younger even than A is today.)

Three years later, she's a graduate. She brought home three folders bursting with maps, creative writing, pictures, math workbooks (including 4 digit subtraction problems!), anatomy diagrams and more.

Wordless Wednesday: Montessori Graduate

Then and now

One year ago...

And yesterday...

Pictured in both of these photos is Z with her beloved teacher Mrs. B and Hank, one her best friends. (We're very glad she's friends with Hank as we like his parents a lot.)

Last night all of us--our family, Hank's family and Mrs. B--had dinner together. A farewell dinner as Mrs. B moving to Canada to be closer to her family.

Which is kind of too bad, because I know at least 2 more children who'd learn a lot from her.

Grandma envy

My colleague's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and melted into a smile. "My mom just sent me another video," she explained, "She sends me pictures and videos a few times a day so I don't miss my baby so much."

My coworker is a new mom, back at work after a too-short maternity leave. It's never fun to leave a 3 month old baby in someone else's care all day, but she's got a pretty sweet situation. Her parents moved to Chicago specifically to care for her newborn and they're doing it all day, every day, for free. Because they want to. Her precious daughter is in Grandma's loving arms 9 hours a day, and my coworker can be completely confident in the quality of her child care. ("She did a good job raising me!")

I'm happy for my friend, but jealous too. My mom and stepdad and my in-laws live on the East Coast, and they're all professionals at least a year away from retirement. Neither set of grandparents has shown any interest in moving closer to us or visiting more than a couple of times per year. I've never dropped my kids off at Grandma's house for the afternoon, much less the weekend. My children's grandparents have never attended a birthday party, preschool event or dance recital. I can't rely on mom to swoop in and help out when I'm sick or overwhelmed. And I don't have the luxury of calling up a babysitter who loves my children dearly and doesn't charge by the hour.

flickr photo by Baron Von Horne, used under Creative Commons license

Originally posted to Chicago Moms Blog.

Behold our new dining room table

Good (and good-ish) things

A few things I learned this week, when I wasn't working my ass off at the office or worrying myself sick about the BP oil spill in the Gulf:

1. I'm much happier to hear A's 5:50am wake-up call when the previous night had her up at 2:30. Why, you might ask? Was she sick? No. "I done sleeping."

2. Installing the 50 pound window A/C in the dining room window is shockingly easy when you're doing it for the 6th time. It's hard to believe we've been living in our Oak Park home for 7 years next month. Oh, and happy 100th birthday house! We love you even you were the scene of a bloody murder.

3. It pays to be patient. Not only did I find Z's new bicycle on Craigslist, my dream dining room table was listed in the most recent for sale edition of MomMail. I've been looking for a heavy, rustic-looking rectangular table for 8 for about a year, but I've been combing the classifieds in earnest for the past 4 months or so. I finally found it--it's a Rustica table from Room & Board--and a mover is delivering it and 8 Room & Board chairs early tomorrow morning.

We've got an exciting weekend ahead: Z and my last ceramics class, Z's first gymnastics show and her Montessori school's graduation picnic.

I want to ride my bicycle

Z barely took her helmet off this weekend. She rode back and forth to her school, where she "helped" transform the schoolyard into a fully functional playground with raised gardens. (It was a huge community undertaking, with about 25 volunteers hammering, shoveling, hauling and raking for hours.)

Here are my girls, digging for earthworms as Dad works the wheelbarrow and Mom visits the donut table

When digging for worms and climbing the mulch pile got old, we went to Rehm Park. There Z commandeered her friend Meredith's bike and circled the playground.

Although the two BFFs did pause for a quick photo

When we came home I removed the training wheels and lowered the seat on her new, bigger bike. It's a purple Schwinn Stardust with 16 inch wheels that we bought off of Craigslist for $45 and Z is in love. She rode around the block with her friend Aria and then by herself, again and again and again, refusing to stop even for a glass of water.

On Sunday she rode through the neighborhood to a new tot lot and implored me to drive her bike to Field Park, which she wheeled around before we met Megan and Bruce for a fabulous brunch at Longman & Eagle (Bruce is a partner).

Z took a brief break to swing, but didn't bother removing her helmet

If you look closely, you can see Z's new bike parked below A

The only places Z didn't bike to this weekend? She didn't get to bike to ceramics class or to the Irving School Yard Sale (where I scored a toddler bike seat and a bunch of kid clothes and early chapter books). She didn't get to bike to Deb's house for our Chavurah Spanish potluck or to Kohls to buy a gift for her teacher on behalf of the school (this is her last year).

But that's about it. The rest of the weekend? All she wanted to do was ride, ride, ride.

I finally got the photos off my Blackberry. Here's one of Z on her bike.

And here's one of the kids on the top of the mulch pile.

BP: Beyond the Pale

I realize there are other news stories worth caring about--tornados in the Oklahoma, flooding in Nashville, the financial mess in Greece and crazy hatchet-men killing kindergartners in China--but I can't tell you how frustrated I am by how the news media's coverage of BP's disastrous oil spill in the Gulf fails to measure up to the size of the tragedy. Right now there is no mention of the oil spill on the front page of NYTimes.com and only a tiny text link entitled BP knew of problems on CNN.

Aside from this amazing set of photographs from Boston.com, I have seen surprisingly little in the way of photo journalism, news updates and commentary on what this environmental disaster means for our energy policies.

I say show us more leaking oil pipes. More blackened birds. More stranded fishermen. More poisoned fish. Show us more spoiled beaches and estuaries. Get Americans angry with BP and its hollow, cynical "Beyond Petroleum" greenwashing campaign.* I want otherwise complacent citizens to realize that this is our wake-up call. It's just not about reducing our reliance on foreign oil. It's about reducing our reliance on oil, period. Yes solar is in its infancy and wind farms make noise and interfere with your otherwise perfect view, but they don't foul the land and water for thousands of miles. President Obama is looking for ways to kick-start our economy and investing in green energy seems like a great place to start. For my part, I'm going to do everything I can to reduce my carbon footprint. Biking and walking more. Fueling up less. And never again at BP.

*That link is to an op-ed article by one of the creatives who worked on the "Beyond Petroleum" campaign. I feel fortunate that none of the big companies I've helped market have done anything I'm truly ashamed to be associated with. In fact, right now I'm kind of proud to work for P&G, which pretty much invented cause marketing 20+ years ago when Dawn helped wash Exxon Valdez oil off of wildlife.

Health care reform can't come fast enough

The good news is that my pityriasis rosea spots are much faded and no longer itch. The bad news is that I've gotten a front row seat to our outrageously stupid, money-squandering health care system. This is the Chicago Moms Blog post I wrote about it.

"Your insurance saved you $260."

My eyes just about popped out of my skull reading that. I'd just picked up a topical foam I'd been prescribed to deal with a skin condition. I'd paid around $30, using my flex spending card. It would have been closer to $50 or $60, but my dermatologist had ever so kindly passed along a prescription discount card (basically a reusable coupon) from the drug company that made the product and that had brought the price down.

Basically, I was fighting a rash with $300 worth of name brand steroid-enhanced hair mousse. Steroid-enhanced hair mousse that left my skin less rashy, but as parched as the Sahara.

Since I was instructed to apply the product twice daily (and my rash pretty much covered my body), I finished off the foam in just over a week. So I called theWalgreen's prescription refill line. The pharmacist called right back: "Your insurance company is only going to pay for this once every 30 days. How is it possible you are done with it already? And how are you using it, exactly?" she asked.

I replied that I was putting the stuff all over, as directed by the doctor. "And are you, um, particularly, um, hairy?" the pharmacist inquired.

Turns out the $300 mousse was a proprietary alcohol-based formula designed specifically for scalp conditions. You know, cause people don't like to put greasy creams on their hair. In fact, the pharmacist told me the exact same active ingredient was available in generic in a cream or liquid formula. Which, aside from being a lot less expensive, would also be less drying to my skin.

Which got me thinking. Why would this dermatologist specifically prescribe a name brand product (instead of the generic) and hand me a coupon for the name brand product? Is his relationship with the pharmaceutical company that cozy? What exactly is the profit margin on a 100 gram can of topical steroid foam?

And what if I didn't have excellent, employer-sponsored health care coverage? Would I have shelled out $300 or just taken my chances? And what if I didn't have $300?

Overhauling our health care system is fraught with challenges, but it's clear to me that what we've got now--a profit-driven system that rewards costly care over quality care and neglects those who can't afford to buy in--is clearly broken.

My Happy Mother's Day

Mother's Day is watching your children swing "spider-style," with your firstborn's arms wrapped tightly around her little sister's back. It's seeing your oldest teach her sister how to swing sideways. It's listening to your girls shriek with delight as they bash into each other again and again.

Mother's Day is a bike ride to the park with Z proudly leading the way on her two-wheeler, streamers a-flying and A singing in the trailer behind me. It's a morning of seed-collecting and silly dancing. With no whining. No tears. No threats of time outs and early trips home.

Mother's Day is A taking a long nap while Z and her dad see How to Tame Your Dragon in 3-D. It's meeting up with friends at the park and laughing over Five Guys burgers in their dining room while the kids slurp popsicles and whisper secrets in each others' ears in the yard.

And it's getting home by bedtime and washing off the sand, dirt, juice, ketchup and snot off their faces so their sweet cheeks are ready for bedtime kisses.

I just want a little fresh air, Mom

Ah, isn't it lovely to fall asleep in the cool night air...while making sure the neighbor kids aren't having too much fun after your bedtime...?

This is exactly how I found Z last night Josh and I were heading to bed. Her head and pillow are on the window sill. And so is Oscar.

Wordless Wednesday: Think she has a future in advertising?

Happy heart, happy belly: My weekend in Portland

My 48 hours in Portland were not wasted. We largely left Franny's children at home with Dave as we shopped, walked and ate our way across the city, sharing food from restaurants, diners, food carts, hole in the wall doughnut shops and the Farmers' Market.

I ate...

Tomato soup, grilled cheese and a butterscotch milkshake at Blueplate

Everything bagel with scallion cream cheese from Kettleman's

Marionberry scone and cookies from the Farmers' Market

A glazed doughnut and Stumptown coffee from Voodoo Doughnut

Assorted Japanese bar snacks and udon noodle soup at Biwa

Spinach, sundried tomato and feta pizza from Oasis Cafe

Lettuce with green goddess dressing and a soft boiled egg followed by a very rare cheeseburger at The Country Cat

Egg, sausage patty and cheese biscuit sandwich from Pine State Biscuits

And a coconut and wicked chocolate ice cream cone from Cool Moon Ice Cream (and since we're not completely heartless, we took the kids there)

I bought...

Dansko sandals from Clogs N More, a pair of earrings and an earring organizer from vendors at the Saturday market, a miniature box of Alma Chocolates, 2 pounds of Stumptown coffee, a folk songs book from Powell's Books for Home & Garden and a half dozen secondhand cloth napkins from SCRAP, a shop that rescues potential landfill and resells it as crafting supplies.

And because we eventually did get shopped out, we also visited...

The Oregon History Museum and the Crystal Springs Rhododendron Garden, where we had fun taking pictures.

You can see more here.

Pityriasis Rosea update

I've posted off and on about my bout with Pityriasis Rosea, but you can read the whole sordid story over at the Chicago Moms Blog. As of this morning, my spots are about 60% faded and I no longer itch. I also no longer look like a freak from Planet Measles, which is a huge relief because I'm flying to Oregon to visit my high school bestie Franny tomorrow morning, and a spa visit is on our itinerary.

Bead for Life: What a home-selling party should look like

My friend Deb invited a couple dozen women to her house (including many of my friends and fellow local blogger Emily) to buy beaded jewelry last night, but this was no ordinary home selling party. Yes, there was wine and snacks. But there was no rep hawking her goods. Deb wasn't earning free goodies with each of our purchases. No one was placing orders they'd have to wait weeks to receive. And I don't think anyone was feeling ripped off by inflated prices.

Deb was hosting a Bead for Life party, selling colorful paper beads handcrafted out of recycled paper by poor women in Uganda. It's a nonprofit, fair-trade enterprise, with 92% of the sales price directly benefiting women. We were shown a heart string-pulling video that explained how rolling and stringing beads allows women to stay in their homes, close to their children (instead of in a quarry, crushing rocks) and the global market for the jewelry ensures a decent pay that can be invested in school fees, home ownership and more nutritious food. I bought it, hook, line and sinker.

And it doesn't hurt that the beads are beautiful. I bought the three necklaces pictured for $65. Franny, avert your eyes. One of these is for you.

I need to remember this

A has no trouble expressing herself. She's got an extraordinary vocabulary, speaks in complex sentences and usually at maximum volume. (Seriously, the girl does not have an off switch!) But she does have a few adorable 2-year-old quirks that I must capture before they vanish forever.

Aminal=animal
Pasghetti=spaghetti (doesn't every toddler say this?)
Burrsurt=dessert

When she wants to play with me, she usually says, "You wanna be Note-sa? You can be the baby and I can be the Mom! Yeah! Isn't that a great idea?" Note-sa is her go-to baby name. The Mom's name is usually Sara. If I agree to play, she continues. "It's time for you to take a nap. Lie down! No, on the couch! Feet up! Close eyes. I gonna tuck you in."

She then positions her face thisclose to mine and sings me a broken version of "Rock A Bye Baby." She kisses me and walks in the other room. "Now call 'Mama!'" I dutifully say "Mama" and she runs in, "What's the matter, Note-sa?" I repeat one of A's excuses for not wanting to nap and she parrots me, saying "You need to take a nap" or "We all sleep in our own beds." I get one final kiss and then she announces, "Okay, now I can be the baby and you can be the Mom. Okay? Doesn't that sound like a fun idea? I gonna lie down and you can tuck me in."

Another variation on the game goes like this: "Let's play babysitter! You can be Adriana. I gonna bring my baby to you. You can take care of her. Now I go to work. I'll pick up Note-sa later, when I done working. I gonna take a train." This is said as she wheels a doll baby over to me and hands her off. Then she tosses a purse over her shoulder and blows kisses.

Check out this getup

In case you couldn't guess, A put together this outfit all by herself. Pink long-sleeved t-shirt from Old Navy (it's silk-screened "Deer to Daddy's heart), blue leggings, pink socks, sparkly shoes and Z's old ice cream cone nightgown.

And yes, she wore it to the park with pride.

Speaking of giving my girls the freedom to make their own decisions... Z's been telling me for two weeks that she's ready to get her ears pierced. For two years, I've told her she can get her ears pierced whenever she's ready, but that it will hurt. On Saturday we stopped at Claire's, we picked our a small pair of CZ studs and she sat in the chair. She asked to see the piercing tool and watched the manager pierce a demonstration ear.

And then she changed her mind. I told her we'd come back when she was really ready. I'm not at all opposed to kids getting their ears pierced (although I've told her no dangly earrings until she's 12), but I'm not going to pressure her either.